Breaking Point
by The Grim Writer
Summary: Pain is never pleasant, especially when it's being delivered by a sadistic alien who wants to hurt you for no other purpose than to break you. For Ben, being taken hostage is more than a slight problem. Major OOC. Discontinued
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Not sure why I started this; it came to me around February after reading three or four particularly heavy angst fics (only a few of them were in this category; you'd be surprised by how few Torture!Ben fics there are out there,) and after watching Ben 10 for the first time (I was sick and at six A.M. on a Wednesday, you'd be surprised by how little is actually on,) I came up with this. Anyways, I didn't decide to write it until now. **

**Rating is due to probable torture, violence, and language (that will get progressively worse.) Characters will also probably be a little OOC while I'm at it (apparently, I needed to screw with this continuity even more.)**

**For some reason there's not a lot of dialogue in this chapter. It's also rather short-ish. Not my original intention...it just...happened.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10. **

_"Cracks in the concrete are just reminders that you fall apart no matter how strong you are."__  
><em>-Unknown

Chapter One

Ben had been having a bad day, even before he crashed the car.

Come to think about it, he'd been having a bad week. The crash was just the coup de grâce; the worst possible conclusion he could've been subjected to.

He should've known something bad like this would happen.

The last three school nights had been spent staying up until close till two in the morning. The two before that had been spent staying up all-night without even the slightest buffer between crime-fighting and his education. The lack of sleep seemed to finally be getting to him; that week alone, Ben had bombed two of his tests, had fallen asleep in almost all of his morning classes, and despite being universally known as a hero, he'd somehow managed to annoy his history teacher enough to get himself a detention (not that he showed up; the Forever Knights had made sure of that.)

His parents weren't being very supportive, either. The downward spiral of his grades hadn't come as much of a shock to him, but _they_ refused to accept his current nosedive and were pushing him harder than ever now. Finals were close, (along with Ben's last chance of passing several of his classes,) and his mom and dad had become more controlling in trying to make sure he did nothing but study in the little free time he had.

"It just downright sucks," he muttered to himself from behind the wheel.

That very day, Ben had missed Julie's party, and besides having _her_ mad at him, Gwen had also been furious (seeing as she had organized the whole damn thing down to the last invite.) Even after all the ridiculous apologies had been made, his cousin still wasn't talking to him. Morosely, he glanced at the cell phone in the passenger seat, thinking about trying to call either her or Kevin again. He was pretty certain all he would get was voicemail; neither of them wanted to see him, more or less speak with him. Their cold shoulder had been part of the reason why he had been forced to take out his own car that night.

Ben yawned, the action interrupting his wandering thoughts. His gaze drifted towards the odometer; he was going at a speed probably illegal in this area (Kevin would still beat him hands down,) but, frankly, he didn't care. Despite it being a Saturday evening (or was it Sunday morning now?) he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

He yawned a second time, and shifted his eyes to the small clock. Two A.M. So it was Sunday. Jeeze; he was beginning the week feeling like crap.

"And this is why I let Kevin drive me places," Ben muttered again. Drifting off in front of the wheel and crashing was not his idea of a nice Sunday morning drive. Despite the unpleasant feeling the very notion brought him, he still couldn't shake the drowsiness away from his brain.

His eyelids were just beginning to droop when something slammed into his car and pushed him off the road.

"Shit!" All thoughts of exhaustion halted as Ben struggled to regain mastery of his vehicle as the car swerved off of the road. It took his sleepy mind several precious milliseconds to realize he had hit something (or, rather, something had hit him,) and that there was basically no use in trying to stop the skid.

By that time, the car was already out of control. The blacktop had flown out from under him and gravity shifted along with it. Something shattered and slashed at his forehead and something else wet and slimy dripped down his face. Metal crunched, broke, and screeched as the car flew out into the desert sands.

Then, almost as soon as it had started, it stopped.

Laying in the driver's seat, Ben felt almost paralyzed. The whole experience had been disorienting, and his world was spinning. The liquid from his forehead dripped down into one of his eyes, and he had to rapidly blink to expel it. He realized he should get moving, (whatever had pushed him off the road certainly wasn't going to wait for him to get his bearings,) but he felt too dazed; too shocked.

Ben never got a chance to react. In his stupor, something raced across the sand before coming to a halt in front of his car. From his upside-down vantage point, all he could see was the shadow of its boots. A hand reached through the front window and grabbed him by the collar. Roughly, he felt himself yanked out; something sharp scratched at his arm while his head was jarred violently against the crushed metal of the roof.

In an instant, Ben was out from the wreck and beneath the stars, staring face to face with a very ugly, _very_ familiar, very triumphant looking alien.

"If it isn't Ben Tennyson. How nice to see you again."

**So, what did I do decently? What do I need to work on (because there has to be more than one thing.) I had to post it when I did, otherwise, it never would've been posted.**


	2. Chapter 2

**You actually don't know how much I had to control myself not to immediately write this after I posted the first chapter. It's kind of…disturbing…how much I want to write a story where I basically torture the main character (oh yeah…forgot to mention that in the first part; huh? Hopefully, it was obvious by the summary.) Thanks for all the praise thus far!**

**School's coming which means less time for writing. Sigh.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ben 10. If I did, there would be a heck of a lot more angst. And gore. And on-screen character death.**

_"No matter how great and destructive your problems may seem now, remember, you've probably only seen the tip of them."_  
>Despairdotcom (It exists.)<p>

Chapter Two

_"If it isn't Ben Tennyson. How nice to see you again." _

_Oh…Crap…_

Even in his banged-up state, there was no mistaking that voice.

"Sunder," Ben managed to choke out between gasps for air. He wheezed, clawing at the iron-grip that constricted his throat. This was not good.

The Bounty Hunter seemed pleased by the recognition; the corners of his mouth quivering at the edges. He pulled Ben in closer for inspection. "When I was hired for this job, I wasn't expecting much of a challenge." He smirked. "I guess I was right."

Ben's mind raced through several dirty comebacks, none of which seemed appropriate to use against someone who could crush his neck without even trying.

_Alright then; let's just skip to the part where I go hero. _

He let his arms fall from his neck, his right arm instinctively racing for the Ultimatrix on his left wrist. The daze and shock from earlier retreated as Ben slipped into battle-mode; all preexisting thoughts slipping to a far corner of his mind. He'd had a terrible week and a worse weekend. Gwen, Kevin, and Julie weren't talking to him. He'd been freaking knocked off the road by this guy in the middle of the night. He was going to enjoy sending him to the Null Void.

Too bad for him Sunder had other ideas in mind.

Having fought with the hero on previous occasions, Sunder had been watching the hero like a hawk; waiting for the right moment to strike. As much fun as it was to see the Savior of the Universe struggle in vain, he really had no time for trifling fights.

The Bounty Hunter's eye caught the motion of Ben's hand, even before the teen could register that his appendage was moving towards the watch. Milliseconds before Ben had punched down on the dial, Sunder, one hand still holding Ben by the neck, shot out a second thick, meaty, paw. He caught the teen just at the right forearm.

Then, without so much as batting an eye, he snapped it in half.

There was something sickening about the crack that permeated the air; nauseating, offensive, frightening. The pain hit Ben a second later; rippling across his flesh in tendrils of red-hot flames.

He screamed.

It was cut short by a blunt blow to his stomach, the air rushing from his lungs and sending him gasping like a fish out of water. "Quiet!"

Vaguely, Ben was aware of being tossed to the ground, where he fell, limply, like a rag doll. The impact jarred his arm and his head; his vision went spotty and a yelp rose from his throat. This cry was followed by a swift kick to his abdomen, and Ben could feel his eyes watering with the pain. Resisting the urge to scream again, he settled for a slight whimper. Protectively, he brought around his left hand onto his damaged right arm. He turned his gaze to meet it.

The sight that awaited him horrified him.

Despite it being night, Ben could easily see the mess that was now his right forearm, although it didn't resemble the appendage in the slightest. The pale figure of his bone glinted white against the soft tone of his flesh. He gagged when he pressed the skin around the break; he could feel his bone give way. "Oh shit…"

The rest of his arm felt warm and wet; blood freely oozing from the fresh cut.

He shut his eyes, trying not to throw up what little food was in his stomach. He didn't dare make a go for the Ultimatrix again (_the last attempt went oh so well_;) and with Sunder watching him…Ben shuddered. Besides; his arm hurt too damn much to move it.

_What the hell do I do now?_

Sunder answered the unasked question for him. From his belt, he pulled out a small set of cuffs. His smirk was beginning to turn into an all out smile.

"What the…" Ben began, to which Sunder rewarded him with a slap across the forehead. Stars flashed.

"Arms behind your back."

Ben hesitated and then tried the simple approach. "No."

With a grin, Sunder bashed a fist into Ben's lower jaw. The teen could feel his two rows of teeth bang together, and a sharp, needle-like prick came into being after he bit down on his tongue. An unwelcome, coppery taste filled his mouth.

"Arms behind your back." This time, Ben complied. He closed his eyes against the pain that threatened to overwhelm him at the movement of his arm. The whole damn thing seemed to pound with its own inner beat, and the skin around it felt too tight; like there wasn't enough to fit over the bone. As the cuffs were secured, Ben kept his eyes low so as not to show the panic that was slowly escalating as the seconds went on. It would not do for the Sunder to see him this scared.

Once he was secured, Ben's abductor roughly lifted him up by the shoulder, jostling his injured arm. The teen winced when he felt the bones scrape against one another, his teeth chattering; his whole mind set on edge. "Now move."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Does it really matter?" As the alien pushed him forward, Ben struggled to catch himself. He winced as his arm jounced, the bone seeming to move in two different directions. He stopped to gag and was rewarded with a swift kick to the back of his leg.

For what felt like hours, but what could've only been minutes, this continued. Ben would be shoved forward so that he'd keep up a decent pace. Eventually, the sheer agony that clawed at his arm, ripping it to shreds, would cause him to falter. Then, he'd either be kicked or hit. His whole body ached, his arms numb from the awkward position (except when he moved the broken one; he could sure as hell feel _that_,) and his chest felt like it was burning. His breathing seemed harder and more labored; he was panting heavily, struggling to take in enough oxygen.

"I said move!" Sunder kicked Ben, yet again, sending the hero sprawling onto the earth. Both hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn't catch himself and landed rather painfully on his side. He cried out as the bones in his arm clanked against each other. "Move it!" Desperately, he tried to inch away from the flying blows, only to suffer a kick to his broken arm which screeched painfully.

_Oh, Jesus, it hurts._

And, for the second time that night, he began to scream.

He was cut off with another blow to the stomach. While winded, the Bounty Hunter yanked Ben's arms back, seeming to put extra pressure on the injured appendage. The hero winced, another yelp forcing its way out of his mouth. He felt so helpless.

"You bastard." A kick. Something seemed to explode in his chest.

Ben curled into a ball. Another kick hit his lower back, another, his side. Both left a pounding ache which sent his mind reeling. Finally, mercifully, something hit the back of his skull.

He then proceeded to black out.

**So there's the chapter. Rather longish...I know.**

**It took me a while to write it the way I wanted, (hence the reason I didn't post this sooner.) Gwen and Kevin will probably be the basis of the next chapter. I couldn't quite find a reason to add them in this one.**

**Anyways, I've been reading Misery by Stephen King (a great horrific, angsty torture-ish kind of novel for all those who like that sort of stuff.)**

**_TGW_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took so long! For a while I wanted to post this, but the chapter kept turning out terribly. Even now I'm not too pleased with it. Alas; I've rewritten this close to ten times. If I haven't perfected it by now, I never will.**

**Part of the reason why I couldn't post this earlier was because I lost power. A blizzard hit me. I just got power back last night****.**

**Disclaimer: Why even bother with this? I don't own Ben 10. **

"_Cheer up! The worst is yet to come!"  
><em>-Philander Johnson

Chapter Three

Upon resuming consciousness, Ben was only truly aware of one thing: his head hurt like _hell._

Lying on the floor in agony-induced senselessness, his skull seemed to throb with the same rhythm as his heart. He squeezed his eyes tighter, biting his lip against the pain and wincing as stretched out his sore muscles. Ben moaned as he tested his right arm; even the slightest motion caused spasms of fiery pain of blast through his side.

Clutching his head with his one good hand, he forced his eyes open.

Blearily, he blinked. The light was incredibly bright. It took several seconds to adjust to the searing glow. In a half daze, he let his eyes sweep the edges of his current 'prison.' Save his presence in the corner, the room was entirely empty. And white.

Ben blinked to make sure he was seeing things right. The initial brightness and monochromatic color hadn't just been a trick of his mind upon waking up. The light, the floor, the walls…everything had a blurry, glowing color. It reminded him of a hospital; the whiteness and the lack of any hues save the one gave everything a sort of holy aura. The only difference was that, from what he remembered, hospitals smelled like clean linen and the overpowering stench of antiseptic; his prison smelled like blood.

For a long while, he just sat there and stared.

The whiteness was nauseating.

Shaking off his momentary vertigo; Ben slowly, (painfully slowly,) sat up, keeping his broken appendage as still as possible. He felt weak, dizzy; his head seemed far too large and far too heavy for his neck. His joints groaned, every muscle ached and protested, and several unpleasant cracking noises resonated throughout his body as he shifted. In the process, he noticed a band of metal that encircled his left wrist, effectively cutting him off from the Ultimatrix.

_Damn it._

Fully upright, Ben angled himself against the wall. He pushed his back against it, relishing in the soothing coolness the metal seemed to provide his sore, aching body.

_Now what?_

His situation seemed rather bleak at best. He'd been captured in the middle of the night, his arm had been reduced to a useless chunk of flesh and blood, he couldn't access the Ultimatrix (which was bad enough on its own,) and he had no way to contact help.

_Can it get any worse?_

As if to answer his own question, he let his gaze fall to his right arm which sat awkwardly in his lap. If it had disgusted him before, in the full light of his prison, it looked that much worse.

While the jagged cut that ran almost completely up the length of his arm was no longer bleeding, the bone still stuck out; a twisted and pointed reminder to just how God-damn helpless he was. Pretty much everything else, from his hand to the tattered remained of his right sleeve was covered in a crust of rust-colored dried blood. The thing seemed bloated about twice its normal size and a terrible, pungent odor hovered around it. Ben dearly hoped it was just the blood that was causing it to smell, and not the start of an infection.

He bit his lip and swallowed, trying hard not to throw up.

With a little, whimpering sigh, he proceeded to remove his iconic green jacket. Getting it off the left arm was simply a matter of slipping sleeve off and over his shoulder. His right arm was the problem. Every jolt of movement was like an earthquake, and even the slightest tension of the muscles in the area of the break caused every nerve of his to stand on edge.

Using his one good arm, he cautiously removed the sleeve, trying hard not to vomit as his hand made contact with the wet, slimy surface near bone. After a brief pause, he proceeded to wrap the jacket around his arm, tightly tying off where the break was.

It was no cast, but at least he didn't have to look at it.

Feeling jittery and antsy, Ben put his head back against the wall, closing his eyes in the process. His skull pounded with the same cold and intense fury as before, and his stomach felt at odds with him. Ironically, it wasn't so much as nausea now as it was of hunger. Of course; on top of everything else, he was hungry.

_This sucks._

8888888

There was a loud, blaring, shrieking ring.

_What the…? _Kevin blinked. It took him half a second to realize he was in bed and not out fighting. He stared up at the beige walls that loomed up over his head. He yawned, his muscles aching both in exhaustion and in soreness.

_Who the hell calls me this early?_ He wasn't pleased; he hadn't gotten much sleep the last few nights, and the previous evening had been the first time in nearly _months_ that he'd been in bed before two A.M. It seemed almost ironic that he hadn't seen this coming; his life certainly sucked enough for it to…

The blaring ring stopped suddenly; the sound dying in the air. A few short breaths later, it started again with the same ferocity as before. Kevin's gaze shifted around the room before lighting swiftly on his cell phone. _What the hell?_

His head still firmly on the pillow, he reached out a hand to grasp the device. Several nasty, choice insults were on the tip of his tongue, his mouth more than ready to spew them out at whoever had decided to disturb his precious sleep. The anger abated slightly upon reading the Caller I.D.

Gwen.

What the hell could she possibly want…?

"Hello?" he asked in a gruff voice, insults dying on the tip of his tongue. He yawned. Damn, what time was it anyway?

His girlfriend answered almost immediately. _"Kevin? Are you awake?"_

He yawned for the second time in under five minutes. "I am now."

"_I'm sorry."_

"S'alright," he mumbled, before following it up with yet another yawn. "What time is it anyway?"

"_A quarter to seven."_

"What the heck, Gwen?" He could feel the whine in his voice. He damn hoped that her call was important; he was so drained from constantly fighting 'Criminals' that were not worth his time. What the hell was it now? Some petty thief? Some overblown scam?

He hated mornings.

"_I'm sorry."_ She apologized rather quickly. Kevin frowned. There was something in her voice he hadn't picked up on earlier. She was nervous. Her tone had an edge that it usually didn't have. _"It's just…"_ She trailed off, letting silence fill up their conversation. He waited. She had his attention. It was definitely important.

"_Kevin, have you seen Ben?"_

"I dunno, why?" It was an odd question; something he wasn't expecting. "Yesterday?" Gwen should've remembered. It wasn't that long ago. Certainly, the red-head, with her precise memory would be able to recall the last time she'd seen her cousin. Why the hell she was suddenly so concerned about the brunette (and more importantly, why she was calling him about it) was beyond him. Unless…

His sleepy mind put two and two together.

_"Kevin,"_ the voice was quiet, hollow; oddly emotionless, which made what she had to say all the more condemning. _"Ben's missing."_

"...Shit."

**Again, I hated this chapter, but I feel incredibly guilty for taking more than a month to update (almost three in this case.) **

**Jeeze, **_**Ultimate Sacrifice **_**was pretty good. As there may be some out there who have not seen it, I shall not disclose spoilers. H** **owever, I can tell you honestly that it's right next to **_**The Purge**_** on my list of favorite episodes. The second half was decent enough to make me forget about how bad the rest of the season has been and about how much I hate Eunice. Almost.**

**I have no idea when the next chapter shall be posted. I'd like to say next week, but I'd rather not make false promises (my birthday is Sunday. I have no idea when I'll have time to do this.) Of course, the Swim Season is starting soon, which means any free time not being eaten up by homework (which isn't a lot, ) will be eaten up by the pool. **

**-**_**TGW**_

_**(11/04/11)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Once again, I have returned from the dead!**

**I do warn you, Gwen and Kevin are harder for me to interpret than Ben. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm not much of a romantic, and it seems to me that almost all of the episodes centered around Gwen and Kevin are (ugh) romances.**

**Hopefully, I've captured them decently enough. Expect Kevin and Gwen (especially Gwen) to be OOC (with the latter, it was hard to balance out the independence, intelligence, and angsty teenage female-ness.) Plotwise? This is more filler than anything. **

_"Man can live about forty days without food, a__bout three days without water, about eight minutes without air...  
>...But only for one second without hope."<em>  
>-Author Unknown<p>

Chapter Four

The silence in the car was maddening.

Neither Gwen nor Kevin was willing to talk about the situation at hand; almost as if they hoped that by ignoring the problem, it might be resolved faster. However, the quiet that settled around them, so filled with dread and worry. It surrounded them and filled them to the brim with hopelessness and despair.

Gwen grasped harder onto the small Plumber's badge in her hands; the skin around her fingers a pasty white color. She fidgeted in the seat again, and switched her gaze from the badge to the clock to the desert landscape and then back again as the car flew down the road at an ungodly speed. She felt numb and hollow, like someone had scraped everything from her insides and tossed them carelessly out the window.

"How far now?" Kevin's voice pulled her out of her musings. Gwen swallowed a lump in her throat and took a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. For the first time since she had rushed into the car that morning, she made eye contact with her boyfriend. He appeared as stoic as usual. If he felt anything, he wasn't showing it.

The red-head glanced at the small, holographic map in her lap. "Not much farther; only a few miles." Her voice was a whisper. She gulped in air, trying to ease her jittery nerves. In her chest, she could feel her heart racing like a horse.

Several more minutes passed under the oppressive atmosphere before anything more was said.

"You can stop now." The instruction was almost unnecessary. Leading down from the road, about thirty yards away, there was a small conglomeration of vehicles ranging from Intergalactic Plumber Warships to Smart Cars. One such vehicle in particular caught the eyes of both Kevin and Gwen; it was a large, old, and rusting RV.

Kevin brought his own car to an abrupt halt. He pulled the keys from the ignition and slipped them into his pocket before calmly exiting the car. His eyes remained hardened; his face as stone-cold as ever.

Gwen came out of the passenger side of the car, no where near as calm and cool and collected as her boyfriend was. Her eyes were wide and her green irises oozed worry and panic. In her hands, she clutched at the small Plumber's Badge like a lifeline, and her hands seemed to shake.

"You alright?" Gwen raised her eyes from the black, abysmal asphalt to Kevin with a small, frightened look. She shook her head.

"No."

He shot her a grim, tight-lipped smile. "Come on; we don't even known what happened yet."

"That's why I'm worried."

8888888

They immediately made for the RV.

Gwen kept her eyes in front of her as she walked the short distance from the road, trying to control the raging emotions that seemed on verge of overwhelming her. There were half a dozen Plumbers scurrying around. Like with the car, a terse silence enveloped the whole area.

Kevin broke this silence with a loud, obnoxious knock upon the RV door. Several Plumbers looked up in slight alarm (or annoyance) before turning back to matters at hand. A smug look on his face, he didn't even wait for the person inside to reply before he yanked on the handle of the door.

Inside it was dark. Shades had been drawn so that everything was enveloped in shadows. As always, almost every available space in the RV was crowded with clutter; an odd array of junk both Human and Alien in origin. A gigantic pile of plates lay in the sink and there were several stacks of boxes that reached nearly from the floor to the ceiling. In the corner, near what was probably the table (although it was so covered in papers it was almost impossible to tell,) bent the elderly figure of Max Tennyson. His shoulders were hunched, his fists clenched, and a look of both anger and worry boiled on his face. His forehead was wrinkled and he seemed older and more tired than usual.

"Gwen. Kevin." Max Tennyson looked up from his work, offering a comforting pat on the back to his granddaughter as she approached him for a hug. He nodded politely and courteously to Kevin, who struggled to find his way across the trash heap that was the floor. His voice was brisk and business-like; a stark contrast to his usual friendly tone.

No one had to explain why they were there; the reason hung over their heads like storm clouds.

For a while, there was a long, drawn out silence as the three of them mused over their thoughts. Max turned partially back towards his work and began to shift around the mound of papers on his table. With each passing second, Gwen could feel the tension in the room slowly building.

Kevin was the first to break the silence. "How's the search going?"

Max sighed, dropping a large arm onto the the scattered papers that covered the table's surface surface. "Not well, I'm afraid. We've been doing all that we can, but it's not much."

"Do his parents know?" It was Gwen this time. She stood slightly off from the group, still gripping tightly to the Plumber's Badge. Her green eyes seemed to penetrate and glow in the gloom. She looked miserable, like she wanted to cry, but couldn't quite bear to.

"They were the first ones to find out."

There was another long silence before Max continued. "Carl called me at about five-thirty or so. I had already gotten a call about an attack…" Max broke off and raised his hands helplessly. "About ten minutes after the call, I saw a car wreck. It was pretty bad. The frame was busted and the windows were smashed. It was covered in ash from a weapon of sorts." Max paused, yet again. "It was Ben's."

Somehow, despite the horrible way in which the news was delivered, Gwen felt neither shock nor surprise. Just more numbness.

Another silence seemed to oppress them. For the first time, Gwen realized just how hopeless everything was. Max smoothed out one of the many papers on the table, slightly out of nervousness. "The outlook is pretty grim right now. The only productive thing we've done this far was remove any traces of the car. The trail went cold fairly quickly; it was hours old by the time we found it. Ben could be anywhere in the Galaxy by now."

Gwen glanced at Kevin. His arms were crossed and his brow was creased into a frown. He radiated irritation and rage, despite the cool facade with which he presented himself.

The Osmosian clenched his fists. "And we have no clue who took him?"

"None at all."

"So what the hell do we do?"

***  
><strong>Originally, there was more, but this seemed like a good place to break off. Filler, gah!<strong>  
><strong>Again, I'm sorry for the wait. I'm pretty sure you are all quite tired of my excuses by now. Three months per chapter? Meh. Sloppy. Luckily, I have a vacation so I'll attempt to write another one this month.<strong>

**As usual, no promises. Half the time, I don't even know when inspiration will strike. The Enemy of My Frenemy sort of spurred me to finish any last minute corrections. The actual writing of the chapter was due to the wonderful Neonstar attempting to keep me on track. Also, I heard the most wonderful clip of Yuri Lowenthal (Ben's Voice Actor) doing some character from a video game called _Bioshock_. Listening to that made me want to move forward in this story. **

**As usual, reviews are appreciated. Constructive/Non-Profane Criticism is welcomed. **

**_-TGW_**

**_(02/11/12)_**


	5. Chapter 5

Hello again! I apologize that it took me three months to write the last chapter. I feel this one is disappointing, although slightly less so as I'm writing more from Ben's perspective (thank God.)

For all you torture lovers, no incredibly dark moments. Again, I offer my sincere apologies. The dialogue also feels slightly forced at several parts. Alas…

…

"_Action cures fear, inaction creates terror."__  
><em>-Douglas Horton

Chapter Five

Ben quickly came to despise his prison; his main hatred deriving from the complete and utter helplessness he felt.

It was not within Ben's nature to sit around and do nothing. Since that fateful summer when he received the Omnitrix, a vast majority of his time was spent saving people. He was always on the move dealing with one threat or another. He never really thought anything through; not only did he lack the time, but he couldn't afford to spend hours analyzing a situation, not when people's lives depended on quick thinking (rational or otherwise.)

If there was a problem, he solved it. It was as simple as that.

His current situation, however, was a bit more complex. Ben couldn't hit or smash things like he usually did, nor could he depend on his friends to back him up. Without the Ultimatrix, he couldn't fight his way out of captivity. Every plan he came up with seemed to echo the hopelessness that he felt; he was trapped with no way out and he was pretty sure it was going to stay that way for a while.

Ben could only pray that Kevin and Gwen were looking for him. However, he quickly realized that even if they were searching, his chances of rescue were fairly dim. As he was probably on a spaceship surrounded by technology, Gwen wouldn't be able to track his Mana, and with the Ultimatrix down, not even the tech-savvy Kevin could ever hope to find him.

Each minute spent imprisoned in the eerie white tomb seemed to weigh down heavily upon Ben. He was crippled by both his arm and by the debilitating, iron-like fear that crushed his will. He was nervous and jittery, and his thoughts only served to remind him of the grim fate that potentially awaited him. Time seemed to mock him and his misery, and passed by with agonizing slowness.

**88888**

Boredom slowly replaced the worst of the anxiety. As the hours passed and nothing happened, Ben slowly began to resign himself to his predicament (although he could still feel the hot sting of resentment and panic broiling under the surface.) He was defenseless (should the need arise for defense,) and he was at the complete and total mercy of his captors.

It wasn't all bad. At least he wasn't being tortured.

Several times, he caught himself dozing off. It usually wasn't for very long, and almost every short nap ended with him waking up in terror; bloodshot eyes open, but not really seeing, while a scream died in his throat. He would sit there for a while, gazing up at the ceiling; too tired to move, yet too scared to close his eyes. In the end, exhaustion and the lack of any other option caused him to fall into a fitful sleep.

He was in the middle of yet another nightmare when he was sent spiraling back into consciousness, courtesy of a kick.

Ben was so startled that for the first minute, all he could do was lie on the floor in a daze and stare up at the dizzying, blinding lights above. His apparent lack of action caused him to be the target of yet another kick.

"What the…!" Ben brought his one good arm up over his head while curling the broken one ever closer to his chest. "What the hell? I'm awake!"

His sudden outburst halted the abuse, and in that time, Ben was able to get a good look at his attackers.

They were…odd; clad from head to toe in a shimmering white armor that was the same shade and hue as the room. Upon initial inspection, they appeared to be part of the walls, and it took Ben several seconds to determine he was not hallucinating. On their heads, they wore a sort of pointed, conical helmet. They vaguely reminded Ben of the Ku Klux Klan, except he was pretty sure that KKK members didn't carry alien blasters.

Nobody spoke. From the hostility that seemed to emanate from them, Ben had a feeling that it was going to be pretty quiet. He glared as best as he could and tried to look threatening.

"What the hell do you want?" He snarled, although his voice cracked on the last syllable. Damn; so much for acting tough.

One of the aliens seemed to gesture slightly at a wall, but other than that, made no indication that he _(…it?)_ had understood him. Ben cocked an eyebrow, but moved toward where the alien had pointed when two blasters were simultaneously raised in his direction. "No need to shoot," he said, although it felt kind of creepy to be talking to guys who wouldn't even acknowledge him.

As he approached the wall, a panel in the side flew up, revealing a darkened hallway. Startled, he took a step back, only to feel the butt of a blaster against his spine. He half turned back to face his captors. "Where are you taking me?"

He received no answer in reply, just another unfriendly nudge.

Ben took a few cautious steps from the white room. What had appeared to be a hallway actually turned out to be another, darker room that encircled his former prison. More disturbingly, looking from the dark room, he could see perfectly into the white one. _It's one of those one-way mirrors_, he thought, and the idea that someone had been watching him sleep disturbed him greatly.

One of the guards took the lead and dragged him through another sliding panel into a dimly lit hallway. Ben was quickly plunged into a winding maze of corridors. In vain, he attempted to count the number of turns and memorize the route he took on the off chance that he managed to escape. It was pretty much useless. As if they were deliberately trying to disorient him, his guards took arbitrary, sharp turns until his head spun with confusion.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, the leading alien stopped next to a wall. A panel flew up, and Ben was forced into yet another small black chamber and then led into another blazing, brilliant, white room.

He would quickly learn to hate this room more than the last.

**8888888**

**You know the drill: feel free to criticize. ******

-TGW

(03/10/12)


End file.
